One More Thing
by ladypredator
Summary: A "missing scene" for the episode "Water" Spoilers for that episode Slightly pre-slash for Rush/Young


Rush fell silently into step beside him as he left the Gate room. Breathing heavily, exertion, exhaustion, and fear still churning inside him, Young squeezed his eyes shut and sighed.

"I know we needed that second batch of ice, you don't have to…"

"Did I say anything about the ice?" Rush interrupted, the Scottish brogue warningly heavy in his voice. Young couldn't help wondering how something so liltingly lovely could simultaneously sound so deadly.

He halted, automatically putting out his fingers to brush Rush's arm, to stop him in mid-step as well.

"You didn't have to," Young replied. "I know…"

"You know nothing," Rush abruptly interrupted him again, dark eyes flashing even in the dim light of the corridor.

"I couldn't – I wouldn't - ever leave a man behind." Young insisted. "We need water to survive, yes, but we'll find a way that doesn't mean abandoning one of my men to his death."

Rush's mobile mouth shifted, twisted, the lines in his forehead and the corners of his lips deepening as he leaned in closer to Young.

"As I said, Colonel, you understand nothing." The scientist turned on his heels and stalked away.

"Rush! Damn it, Rush! Stop!" Young shouted after him, stumbling as his injured leg suddenly gave way.

A strong hand took hold of his upper arm and hauled up him before he hit the floor, setting him on his unsteady feet.

"This is exactly the problem," Rush told him, jerking his hand away as soon as Young was fully standing again.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Young demanded, his voice rising with his temper and the lingering frustration of the physical limitations.

"You, you fool." Rush said roughly, glaring at him, then turning to leave again. Young grabbed for him, seizing hold and pulling the man up against him, face-to-face, chest-to-chest.

"Will you stop making me chase after you? Maybe I am a fool, but if you said something that made sense it might help! What is your problem, Rush?"

"You're my problem, Colonel," Rush responded, trying to pull out of Young's grasp, but the soldier tightened his grip, holding them trapped within each other's personal space. "You're my bloody problem!"

"And just how am I supposed to be the problem? Young yelled back.

"You never listen!" Rush screamed at him, so close now that Young could feel the damp heat of the other man's breath. "You numb-skulled, thick-brained, heroism-addicted idiot! Did you hear me say one word about the bloody ice? You know just as well as I do what our water situation is so why would I waste my time telling you something you already know? You're the one who accused me of only being concerned about it, but you are the only one talking about it. Not me."

"Then what the fuck is this all about?" Young fired back, confusion widening his eyes and loosening his grip just enough to let Rush break free. This time, however, Rush didn't move away, instead he took hold of Young's shoulders and shook him roughly.

"It's about your stupid attempts to get yourself killed!" Rush yelled. "It's about you going out onto that planet and risking your life first to get the damn ice and then to rescue Scott."

Young's jaw dropped open and his mind fumbled in shock. "Wha…" he couldn't form words. Where had this come from? He didn't understand. The blank look in his eyes must have communicated itself to the ever-observant Rush who painfully tightened his grip on Young's shoulders.

"Don't you get it, you dumb arse? We can afford to lose Lt. Scott. We cannot afford to lose YOU!" With an expression of frustrated disgust, Rush abruptly released him and turned to leave.

"What? Rush…Damn it, will you stand still for 5 minutes!" It was his turn to seize hold of the other man and drag him into bodily contact. Rush stopped pulling away, simply stood still and let his eyes bore into Young's.

They stood there in silence for a long moment that stretched – and finally broke.

"What do you mean we can't afford to lose me?" Young asked, his mind tumbling over the ramifications of that statement – that statement coming from this man.

Rush simply shook his head, long brown strands of hair sliding down to frame his eyes as they shifted downwards, breaking their shared glare.

Young's own words startled him as he spoke in very instant that it hit him. "You were worried about ME?"

Rush's mouth tightened and the furrows between his eyes lengthened and deepened.

"Is that so difficult to understand?" he finally replied in a low, thick brogue after a long pause. He lifted his eyes again, and this time the huge, dark orbs were almost soft.

"You're the only leader we've got; the only one capable of handling this mess; the only one this rabble shows any respect. Well, a couple like Spencer you'll have to deal with, sooner rather than later, I suspect, but the rest will follow you into hell itself. Without you, this lot would turn into a rabid, panicked mob; they're inches from it even with you hanging onto control. Grunts like Scott aren't important, we can survive without him. We can't survive without you. So stop trying to get yourself fucking dead!"

With that, Rush was finished. He broke away, swiveled, and nearly ran down the corridor, rapidly disappearing around a corner.

Young was left standing there, the echo of Rush's voice resounding in his ears, the words replicating themselves again and again as he struggled to make sense of what he'd just heard.

There was shock over Rush expressing concern for anyone, especially Young himself, something he didn't think he'd heard before. He had wondered if the man was even capable of it. He'd been wrong.

There was a flood of something ego-satisfying, something he didn't want to examine too closely, about Rush expressing confidence in his leadership abilities. Rush had told him that he – Colonel Everett Young – was indispensable. Where the hell had that come from? He had thought Rush held nothing but disdain for him. Wrong again.

And then there was the sudden recognition that Rush might well be right, which made the blood drain from his skin, leaving him pale and shaken.

If Rush was right this time, and he was right far, far too often, that meant… There was yet another line of thinking that Young didn't want to examine too closely. That man drove him absolutely crazy. He shook his head, trying to put it all aside, there was too much to deal with right now. He needed to talk to TJ, check on Scott… too much to do, to much to think about, to dwell on this right now. He'd think about coping with Rush later. Yes, definitely later, as much later as possible.

So why was there this squeeze of warmth in his belly, a slight additional bounce to his step as he started to walk slowly in Rush's footsteps down the alien corridor?

That was just one more thing he really didn't want to think about.


End file.
